In Holy Matrimony
by Iavas
Summary: post EW. In a supposedly pacifist world, one person is going through the trouble of killing the ex-pilots and leaving behind messages for the Preventers to find.
1. Chapter 1

In Holy Matrimony - Chapter One  
by Sau-Chih Feng

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Gundam Wing does not belong to me. No profit is gained. Usual disclaimers apply.

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It was a pleasant Summer day, roughly around 24 degrees Celsius, warm and breezy. The time was exactly 3:17 in the afternoon. The sky was a sea of azure dappled with white cotton-soft clouds floating past in strips, globs, chunks, and sheets. In the distance, skyscrapers thrust themselves from the horizon, creating a ragged skyline of ups and downs. When the sun was at the right angle, the blaze of light glaring off the windows of the rows of skyscrapers would glitter and gleam like polished jewels of varying colors: aquamarine, peridot, diamonds, crystals, and sapphires. At sunset, the very same windows became a mosaic of rubies, topaz, garnets, and onyx. 

Such was the view from Relena Darlian's window. Normally, she sat with her back to the window so that the view wouldn't distract her from the mountain of paperwork she needed to complete within the day; the view was really something to astound the visitors that came into her office. However, every night at sunset, she'd put aside whatever work she was doing at the moment, turn her chair around, and watch the skyscrapers blaze. Somehow, it seemed to suggest the life and vibrancy of humanity blazing vividly and outshining even the wonders of Earth's nature. A rather perplexing thought, but not impossible, just rather improbable. One only had to think of five -- or six or seven, depending -- remarkable and courageous young men. Sometimes, a meteor comes along and outshines every other star in the sky with its brilliance; but the meteor burns out quickly. The former Gundam pilots, despite all their brilliance, now lived away from attention and in chase of the years stolen from their youths. They were more comets than meteors, some argued. They'll disappear and fade away from the sky, but they will return again someday in the distant future.

However, Vice Foreign Minister was not enjoying the wonderful view from her office. Instead, she was arguing with a man on the videophone on her desk as calmly and rationally as she could on the subject matter. It wasn't very easy, considering that the man, a very important politician from the colonies by the name of Brian Crawford, was telling her to find a husband to help secure the truce between the colonies and Earth and giving her a long gratuitous list of eligible young men in politics. Nor did she find it pleasing that he placed himself in the list, especially as one of the most eligible.

"Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, you simply don't grasp the enormity of the situation," the man stated fiercely. "The peace we have now is nothing more than words on paper. You were once Queen Relena; a marriage between you and someone from the colonies would show the people in the colonies the Earth's sincere wish in the alliance."

"Stop calling me 'Queen Relena,' Crawford. I don't care what you say, your proposition is ridiculous. Peace is -- "

Crawford interrupted her. "Are you saying you don't care about the peace?"

"That's preposterous, Crawford, and you know it. This peace won't last if both sides only care that they aren't cheated. What's important is the wish for peace. A political marriage isn't going to solve anything that hard work and sincerity won't." 

The door opened, and her secretary came in timidly. Relena didn't notice anything, arguing too bitterly with the man. Her secretary sighed and adjusted the memos on her clipboard. Twenty years-old and with a steady boyfriend who also worked in the government, Melissa Carson had started to think of the Vice Foreign Minister almost as a sister who she had to take care of, and Crawford had been pestering Relena with the same matter over the past two weeks incessantly that Relena had told her yesterday not to take anymore calls from him. How he'd gotten through, Melissa wouldn't know, but she did know that she'd probably have to ask someone who knew how to make sure Crawford never got through for a long time.

"The people don't see it that way," he said firmly.

"'The people' are smarter than you give them credit for," she retorted, blotches of anger blossoming in her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mr. Crawford, but I don't see any point in continuing this discussion. Have a nice day." Saying that, she immediately disconnected the video phone and unplugged it. Collapsing in her chair, Relena rubbed her head tiredly. Melissa took that as an invitation to approach Relena's desk.

"You know, he just doesn't get it," Melissa said comfortingly as she placed several reports on Relena's desk. "He's just a pompous jerk who doesn't understand the whole significance of the war. Did you know, he tried to push through a bill to disband the Preventers? Luckily, no one voted for it, and the President certainly would've vetoed it."

Relena tried to smile. "And when you first started this job, you wondered why I wanted to quit."

Melissa smiled. "Well, I was in love with the legend about you during the wars," she answered simply. "Anyways, the Economics and Cultural department sent this up about the recent trades between outer space and earth, Foreign affairs stuff, the last disarmament report, Preventers stuff, and here's another bill they're trying to pass, which I personally think is a pretty good idea."

This time, Relena did smile. "Are you trying to meddle in politics, Mel? You can have my job if you want," she offered jokingly. "You might even do a better job of it than me."

"If I were a queen, I might," Melissa said.

"That was almost four years ago," Relena reminded her secretary as she perused the bill quickly, signed it, and handed it back. "I wish people would forget." Melissa wisely said nothing and retreated from the office quickly, thinking of how much Relena could do with a vacation and having to send the petition to next officer to sign.

Sighing, Relena began to shuffle through the stacks of reports on her desk, dreading the need to take some home and finish them there and the workload that would be on her desk tomorrow, when suddenly a pristine white card covered with minute writing fell out of the stack. Picking it up, she saw her name on one side in bold and straight letters. She flipped it over and read the simple sentence in the middle of the card. 

_I love you._

Her fingers shook, and she very nearly dropped the card. All thoughts led invariably to the year AC 195, to the image of a gun pointed straight at her, to Gundams, to war, to a teddy bear, to Zechs, to Wing Gundam, to Wing Zero, to the Cinq Kingdom, to AC 196, to Mariemaia, back to Wing Zero and to the gun, and as always, to Heero Yuy. Always, it was Heero, and now he was back. Her eyes stung; when was the last time she had a good cry? But she couldn't cry here, not where Melissa might hear her. She had to pretend that nothing was wrong, that Heero didn't exist or that he had been forgotten a long time ago.

In truth, everything was wrong. Heero did exist, and she had never forgotten that.

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Somewhere in the distance, someone was singing.

The church was silent and ghastly, filled with looming shadows created by the statues silhouetted against the stain-glass windows. The verger and the vicar had apparently both left already; he was in no danger of meeting anyone here until morning. It was not exactly his first time seeking refuge in a cathedral anyways. Weakly, he staggered to the first row of pews and fell heavily to his knees before the altar. Before his eyes, he saw the little bronze bottle containing wine. His mouth was parched, yet he didn't reach for the bottle. Although he didn't believed in God, an act of sacrilege was an act of sacrilege. He felt the eyes of the statue of Jesus towering over him bore into his head and looked away.

Colored lights played on the floors and on the benches and the altar and on his body as the light outside faded. He was bleeding rather badly from a wound on his right arm and a bullet wound in his left leg. They weren't serious, but they were taxing upon his strength and stamina, both of which he seriously needed right now.

The door to the cathedral flew open.

He whirled around, hands reaching for the gun strapped to his waist while knowing full while he wouldn't be able to get it in position in time. A figure walked in, silhouetted by the light, footsteps echoing off the walls and magnified by the vast space. A raised arm held a gun pointed straight at his head. A face lit up in an almost maniacal grin that split the face from ear to ear and lit it up with psychotic delight.

"Checkmate, Mr. Yuy."

The bullet left the gun at an amazing velocity of a few thousand kilometers per second and delved straight for his head. A million thoughts and images burst into his head as he watched the bullet he could not dodge. In the end, one thought dominated all other thoughts as he fell backwards, glassy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling decorated with paintings of angels and cherubs.

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Wufei shook his head. Barely four years into the peace, and already something like this was happening. He surveyed the crime scene with distaste. What a sick psychopath. Blood was everywhere, leading up to the altar, smeared on the altar, the cross, the pews, on anything that had been left out. Instead of the statue of Jesus that originally adorned it, the cross sported a young man of almost twenty years of age with ugly gashes all over his bare chest, the shirt having been slashed open. A silver cross swung to and fro like a pendulum from a silver chair hung around his neck. Wufei never knew that Heero was a religious man; in fact, he doubted it. Most likely the cross had been planted as a mesage.

Behind him, he could feel some other Preventers gathering up after him and whispering. He ignored them. He only hoped that the press didn't get wind of anything as of yet. He hated to think of what they'd make of the entire mess, and of all people to be crucified in such a manner.

"Any idea who did it?" a quiet voice asked him. Trowa had arrived. Preventer Headquarters had contacted almost everyone a few hours earlier and booked them flights to the crime scene from wherever they previously were. Luckily for most, they had been on Earth. Calm green eyes took in the scene, and while the impassive expression of the face did not so much as twitch, the eyes narrowed slightly.

Wufei shook his head. "Not so much as a clue, except that the murderer left a message for us," he answered. "We took photographs of it already, so we're cleaning the place up. Chances are that the blood's all his." He jerked a thumb at the crucified figure. 

"Aren't you going to take him down?" Sally asked, holding a cup of coffee in a hand. Her face was pale, and Wufei couldn't help but notice that her hands were shaking. "The press might be able to take pictures of him in that position."

Wufei shrugged. "Take him down then, just tell the imbeciles to be careful not to damage any possible evidences."

"Are Zechs and Noin coming?" Trowa asked quietly, watching as a group of Preventers climb a letter and gently cut down the cross, afraid of disrupting anything by cutting the corpse away from it.

"Yeah."

"Strange. The public's going to wonder why the Preventers are interfering with a homicide case out of the blue unless you tell them who the victim is," the tall man observed. "Who else is coming?"

Wufei studied the altar. Nothing seemed to be missing. Absent-mindedly, he picked up an empty bronze bottle and examined it. It was probably supposed to contain the wine, something about the wine being Jesus' blood. Wufei shrugged; he didn't pretend to know anything about Christian theology. Other than that it was stained with blood outside and along the inside of the rim, the bottle seemed perfectly normal. He put it back down. "Everyone else connected are on their way. Lady Une's staying at Headquarters and trying to keep the entire affair quiet."

"And Relena?"

The cross nearly crashed to the ground; three Preventers managed to catch it before it did, although the figure on the cross was jostled a little. Dark brown hair parted a little, revealing a pale wounded forehead. Wufei frowned. Why hadn't he noticed that earlier? They were placing the cross down somewhere behind the pews, where it was obscured by the rows and rows and benches. He strode forward purposely. Bending down, he brushed back the corpse's heavy bangs and frowned even deeper. Odd. This was very odd.

Trowa raised an eyebrow at Wufei's apparent hesitation to answer the question and contemplated asking a second time. Sally's hand descended on his shoulder. Turning around, he noticed how tightly she was pursing her lips, that her expression was troubled. "Sally?"

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "She was hospitalized last week from overwork and turning into a recluse," she stated in a shaky voice. "Three days earlier, she'd tried to commit suicide."

  
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	2. Chapter 2

In Holy Matrimony - Chapter Two  
by Sau-Chih Feng

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Gundam Wing does not belong to me. No profit is gained. Usual disclaimers apply.

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_The hospital room was too bright; even without opening his eyes, he could see red everywhere. Red, red, the color of blood, the color of Epyon, the color of flames... He didn't want to see anymore red. He opened his eyes._

_"Good morning."_

_The voice was very familiar, yet he could not place the owner. He moved his head to the side a little, wincing slightly at the pain in his head. Someone with blond hair was seemingly sitting in a chair facing him, regarding him rather benignly. The blond's face were blurred to the point that he couldn't either recognize nor see the face at all. Blinking a few times didn't help clear his vision either._

_"You needn't worry, of course. This is just a normal hospital, and you'll realize that you can just walk out of here if you want. We might stop you, but only because you didn't pay the bill and that it's hazardous to your health," the blond continued conversationally._

_"Where is this?" Experimentally, he moved his fingers and flexed his arm muscles. Other than a little aching, they seemed perfectly fine. He tried to sit up and found that he could do so._

_"It's a civilian facility hospital in the vicinity of L2 currently," the blond continued, evidently relieved that the patient wasn't going to leave. "You were brought here just three days ago. I must say, you heal remarkably fast, even with wounds as yours. Not only did you lost an amazing amount of blood, you were also overworking yourself. I must say though, I can't really blame you. Of course, you probably won't tell me what happened, so I can only speculate; however, there should be little doubt as to what transpired, given your efforts in not only the Eve Wars."_

Eve Wars?_ Those words rang familiarly in his ears, yet at the same time, held no meaning._

_"I must say," the blond added after a few moments of silence, in which he had made no effort to say anything, "I've always wanted to meet someone who managed to pilot that accursed mobile suit. Epyon's not exactly easy to handle. I know. It's just like the Zero system, after all."_

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	3. Chapter 3

In Holy Matrimony - Chapter Three  
by Sau-Chih Feng

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Gundam Wing does not belong to me. No profit is gained. Usual disclaimers apply.

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Noin examined the numerous reports on her desk detailing the murder of Heero Yuy. She was mutely grateful that she hadn't been at the scene; the pictures alone were nauseating even without the smell of blood in her nostrils. Dealing with dead bodies was something along Sally's line of work, not hers. Sighing, she shifted through the photographs, trying to find anything suspicious.

"Was Yuy a religious man?" Zechs asked, bending over her shoulder to get a better view of the photograph she was currently examining of Heero hung up on the cross. He carried a mug of coffee in his other hand, which he offered to Noin. She took it gratefully, feeling the heat seep through the ceramic and into her fingers. He took a sip from his own mug.

"Hmm, not that I know of," Noin confessed, "but I don't think he'd talk about it even if he were one."

Zechs took the photograph from her. "I've never seen him wearing a cross before; and I don't think he'd be able to hide one anywhere, not with the clothes he wears," he said. Noin smiled at the latter of what he said, wondering if he knew how strange his words sounded.

"You'll also realize," Noin added, pointing at the photograph, "that the slashes on his chest are actually rather shallow; he couldn't have bled as much blood as we found. I'm betting most of that blood is some animal's, maybe more. Also, the cuts are rearranged strangely, like a pattern...or...."

"Or maybe the killer was carving words, only carving words isn't exactly something easy."

"Probably. Speaking of which, there was something carved on the cross," Noin added, putting down her coffee and picking up a sealed plastic bag containing the silver cross that had hung from Heero Yuy's neck. Flipping the bag upside-down, she emptied the cross onto the table. The words "_If you believe, it will crumble in these uncertain days; but, if you are here, I will never let you go_"* glimmered on the surface, scrawled onto the back of the cross. "You wouldn't happen to know what the killer is trying to say, would you?"

Zechs shook his head. "As far as I can guess, it's an allusion to the Eve Wars and the -- or lack of -- convictions of us all during a time of changing loyalties."

Noin smiled at him and reaching for his hand, squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "Some loyalties never change," she offered.

"Yuy was a strong man, I doubt if he ever lost his convictions, if he did lose sight of his goal. His loyalty never wavered either," Zechs stated almost bitterly, though his hand tightened around Noin's warm and soft one.

"Maybe one day, you'll tell me about Epyon," she ventured softly and timidly, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his fingers, "and maybe, just maybe, I can help you. But you don't have to worry, because as long as we're alive, we have all the time in the world."

The door was flung open, and a Preventer officer ran panting into the room. "Zechs Marquise?" he gasped with the exertion of having run up five flights of stairs and down the ridiculously long corridor, at the end of which Zechs had chosen for his office for the sake of privacy. All messengers sent to deliver word to Zechs resented the location and exertion required, because it was almost always foretold that the elevator would be too slow for Une's taste.

Zechs stood up quickly and released Noin, nearly spilling his coffee as he set the mug heavily onto the table. "Yes."

"Lady Une wants to see you."

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The boy was very young, almost sinfully so. The Preventers uniform hung loosely upon a slender figure too small for someone his age, making the boy look even younger. But then, Zechs amended, he himself had not been much older when the wars broke out and he had led the troops in countless battle as well as the forces of Libra and White Fang against the Earth Sphere. Tousled dark hair suggested that the boy had just returned from a mission somewhere and had not yet had time to tidy his appearance. A bandage peeked from somewhere behind the fall of bangs. As Noin and Zechs entered the spacious office, the boy turned around to glance at them. There were shadows under his blue eyes.

"Zechs, Noin," Une greeted. "This is another one of our field agents, Shin'ichi Kudou**. He just got back from Siberia from destroying the remnants of old battles." She gestured at the boy, who nodded respectfully. "He used to help in a detective firm before becoming a hacker for the colonies during the war. I thought he might prove helpful for that case."

Shin'ichi held out a hand, which Zechs and Noin both shook in turn. "You'll have to fill me in on most of the details; even though I was there, I wasn't fortunate to be privy to most of the discoveries. What I know is mostly hearsay and what I saw with my own eyes."

"He's an excellent field agent, although his skill behind a computer will be wasted," Une supplied with a smile. "He's a great eye for detail. If he can't find anything, I don't think anyone else can."

Zechs raised an eyebrow.

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The kaleidoscope of lights flashed across the stage in a dazzling show of colors, illuminating the band in a dizzying effect. Around the stage, the crowd convulsed in a frenzy of motion, dancing or simply jumping as they screamed with the music. A sea of hands reached out and tried to touch him, but he danced out of their grasp, laughing, always dancing back within their reach before retreating again. As long as he held the microphone, as long as he was singing to them, everything was alright.

Lost in the multitude, Duo screamed with the rest of the faceless shadows and tried to reach for the shining figure on the stage. Adrenaline pumped through his veins; drunken with exhilaration, he inhaled the energy the crowd emanated. Now, he was _alive_.

_Passion is fragile  
Just like life  
If I embrace you harder  
Your breath may suddenly stop_

_Overlooking the waterways is an old room  
From its flapping doors  
The cold wind shrieks like a whistle _

_It flows but never disappears  
Just like scars from a wound  
Even in my memories  
I can't bury you away  
_ _nor the image of y__our eyes _

_The pain remaining is exquisite  
Your illusion shattered  
After we sought each other too far _

_The fading consciousness  
Contemplates the riddle of love  
Slowly they traveled  
To some perfect stranger's eyes _

_Even in my memories  
I can't bury you away  
nor the image of your eyes _ _***_

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* for any rabid _Weiss Kreuz_ fan, these lines came from the first ending song, "Beautiful Alone."

** The name was stolen from _Detective Conan_. _ Conan_ fans or those who've simply seen the _Conan_ movie _The Fourteenth Target_ may have some inkling at what I'm getting at.

*** These are butchered lyrics of another _Weiss Kreuz_ song, "Perfect Stranger" sung by Koyasu Takehito and Miki Shin'ichiro.

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